I'll fix you
by ChibyL
Summary: Mickey swallowed hard as he arrived to the White Swallow. Firecrotch worked there and that meant nothing good.


Thanks to my beta Jasmine Persson

**I'll fix you**

Mickey swallowed hard as he arrived to the White Swallow. Firecrotch worked there and that meant nothing good.

The moment he stepped inside someone squeezed his ass and Mickey had to count to one hundred to not punch the man in the face. Hell, he was almost seventy years old and that was too much disgusting even for him. Mickey smiled, thinking that maybe Ian would appreciate it.

The smile faded from his face when he spotted the redhead. He had a ridiculous silver shirt, all lights and shines and in the moment Ian turned in his directions Mickey saw a dark line around his eyes. Was that make up?

What the hell had happened to his Firecrotch?

He swallowed again, hoping that the pain he was feeling in his chest would disappear, and approached him. "Gallagher!" He yelled as to be heard over the high volume of music.

When the redhead looked at him, there was a brief moment where Mickey could tell that he looked sad. Or maybe even desperate. But it lasted less than a second, then Firecrotch smiled and opened his arms in a friendly way, "Hey, Mickey! How're you doing, man? Hell, I've missed you so much!"

Mickey arched a brow. "Yeah, whatever. Can we talk for a moment, man?"

Ian shook the bottle he had in his hands and poured a light blue fluid into a glass, giving it to one of the fags over the counter.

"Of course! What do you want to drink? We have the best drinks you can dream of!"

Excited. It was that exact word Mickey would use to define him in that moment. And it was quite scary for Mickey, who knew how quiet Ian used to be. He was the one who always followed the rules, the polite guy who walked with his head down, the guy who wanted to join the army.

And now, there he was, fucked up with who knew what kind of shitty drug.

Mickey didn't answer and Ian kept talking, "Come on, the first is on the house! You should really try this." He said, giving him a glass filled with something Mickey didn't even try to recognize.

Ian's hand was so close, Mickey couldn't help but grab his arm. But he was stumped as to what to do next. "We have to talk, man. Come with me."

As Ian tried to draw his arm back unsuccessfully, a man approached. "Let him go," he said and Mickey turned to him.

He was a guard, no doubt about it, judging by both what he was wearing and the height of _him._ He was almost for certainly stronger than Mickey, but Mickey didn't care. So he chose to ignore him and strengthened the grip he had on Ian's wrist.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" the man said, slightly pushing Mickey. "Let him go and leave."

"Yeah, and I'm trying to ignore you. Gallagher, come with me."

When the man pushed Mickey again, Ian stepped out from behind the counter, standing between the two of them, his back to Mickey.

"It's fine, Jake," he said, "I can handle him. And I'll be right back." Mickey looked disgusted when Ian run a hand down the man's abdomen, suddenly rubbing his body against the other man's.

Mickey squeezed his arm as hard as he could, making his way out of the room, not bothered by the people he was rudely pushing away.

When the cold air hit them, Mickey let him go.

"What's wrong, Mickey? Missed me?" Ian asked acting so innocent. He came closer to Mickey, running a hand through his hair and kissed him roughly.

Mickey drew away in an instant, disgusted by the scent of weed and alcohol. "What the hell, Firecrotch!"

"Mick, you're hurting me," Ian moaned tugging at the arm he was still holding, but Mickey refused to let go. At the same time, Ian started shivering, as if the cold had hit him right at that moment.

"I'm taking you home," Mickey said with no hesitation, but when he tried to pull him along and make him walk, Ian started to scream.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Mickey found himself asking.

"Let go. Just let go," Ian almost begged, his eyes threatening with a wave of tears.

Mickey was so scared that he immediately released the hold he had on Ian's arm. Ian's shivering was worse now, his body completely shaken with chills, his lower lip trembling. "What's wrong, Gallagher?"

Ian stared at him, wrapping his arms over his chest and almost hugging himself. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice extremely low.

Mickey was even more concerned now. "I want you to stop acting like a crazy bitch."

Ian was still staring at him with the same look in his eyes. Then all of a sudden, his legs gave out and he fell onto his knees, without even flinching when he hit the asphalt.

"Hey, you okay?" Mickey asked, kneeling in front of him. He didn't touch him, afraid that Ian would react the way he had done before.

Ian was crying. "Why, Mickey? Why did you leave me?"

Mickey bit his lip. "You were the one who left," he wanted to say, but he knew what Gallagher meant. The moment he had married that Russian bitch he had abandoned him. He chewed on his finger, completely speechless.

"Gall- Ian, we'll figure out what to do." He had never seen his Gallagher so broken before and he didn't know if he could promise him that everything would have been okay.

Mickey took his jacket off and put it on Ian's shoulders. It was even colder without it, but Ian was only wearing that shirt, so he was freezing at the moment. And besides, Mickey hated that shirt, he was glad to cover it, even if it meant that he himself was more exposed to the wind.

He ran a hand through Ian's hair, finding it glued down with wax. He liked the strands, despite the fact that they weren't so soft to the touch. But he couldn't stand his make upped eyes, so he tried to cover them with red strands.

Mickey used the sleeve of his shirt to clean Ian's face from the black tracks that covered his freckled cheeks.

"Come with me, Gallagher. We'll fix it." He held the redhead tighter, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, smelling the same scent of weed all over him. "We'll fix everything."

I'll fix you.


End file.
